


some broken hearts (never mend)

by sunbean72



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Disaster siblings, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nebula must be infinitely older than Tony?, Whump, angst uh finds a way, but let's be honest it's tony, he dads everyone he meets, so i kind of get a sibling vibe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:45:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbean72/pseuds/sunbean72
Summary: One of the things that I loved best about Endgame was Nebula and Tony's dynamic. Here's 22 days of Nebula and Tony adrift in space. Feel free to send me a prompt (since I need 22 days) on tumblr @tonystark5ever :)





	1. Day ONE

He was on his feet; she'd give him that. Humans were surprisingly resilient for all their pitiful frailty. 

She fought against it.

The pain of her breaking heart.

She fought.

In the end, like so often, she lost the battle. It was nothing new. The pain, the sorrow.

The anger.

He'd collapsed again, and this time he was slower, much slower in rising. 

She walked over to him, giving him a hard stare. She wasn't going to _allow_ his death. Not when it had, for whatever reason, been within Thano's will that he, specifically, die. Her last act of defiance, if that's what it was; get the Terran home to his people, if he had any. Had any left. If not, he would have to survive anyway. 

He finally looked up at her, the desolate grief in his eyes a mirror to her own soul, and it hurt. It hurt a lot. It felt like Thanos was ripping her apart again, like when Gamora begged Thanos to spare her. Anger rippled through her; not enough to burn out the pain but only enough to fuel it.

"It's not much further."

"I know." He struggled to catch his breath. "Maybe." He sighed a deep breath, pain evident in his movement. "Maybe you should leave me here."

"No," she said sharply. "Believe me, a slow death by starvation is not going to be pleasant."

"Probably... the dehydration would get me sooner." Another deep breath, against pain and the dying atmosphere. "Considering the blood loss."

"Get up."

"I can't--'

"I'll carry you." Her voice was, perhaps, sharper than she intended it to me.

"I can't just--" A fathomless pain. "I can't just _leave_ him here--"

Nebula was caught by surprise how much this hurt her. She hurt for him, for the lost teenager, the wizard, and all the--

The Guardians. Peter. Drax. Tender Mantis who had shown her nothing but gentleness. Now nothing but dust in the endless ruin of Titan.

She sat down. 

She did not know how to comfort him when once again he was caught in the pain of his failure and loss and started to weep. She wished she could join him. Tears were one of the things Thanos had taken from her, one of the many, many things. She knew no words. She dared not touch him. 

She waited with him.

The darkness came.

Finally he moved to stand, but now, too weak, too battered by his fist fight with a titan. She gave him a hand and pulled him standing. He attempted a step and nearly fell. Without a word, she slung his arm over her shoulders and bore what weight of his she could so he could walk. After a moment she realized that she was gripping his side tightly, and he was clinging to her, the strength in his grip belying his growing weakness.

They moved in the darkness toward the silent and unmoving Benatar.


	2. Day TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Benatar will take some TLC to get it in the air and Nebula is not super excited about having company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find this duo endlessly fascinating, but especially in these circumstances, at their very most rock bottom. Not only have they lost everyone, but that means they've lost the very people they'd turn to in such a dire circumstance. They only have each other, a very forced situation, with neither one having the emotional reserve for forging new friendships or bonds. Or do they? Please send me a prompt on tumblr @tonystark5ever or in the comments

He collapsed the moment they are within the Benatar, sliding down along the wall, panting in pain, his eyes closed. He was pale to the lips and had complained about the cold Titan climate for the last ten minutes.

And Nebula... Nebula needs a moment. There are small signs of the Guardians scattered around the ship, and each reminder of them struck her like a terrible blow, a pain worse than torture. Indeed, she would suffer nearly anything to have even a few more moments with them. As usual, her pain only serves to make her furious. Where had her tenderness gotten her? What good was her softness toward her sister? How had it served her to allow kind feelings of any sort toward the Guardians? All she ever wrought, and all she was ever left with, was death, destruction, and pain.

The ship was dead; she did not know if it was damaged in the battle with Thanos or some other assault, but not even the emergency power was on; that probably meant the fuel cells. The Neoship had been utterly obliterated when she crashed it into Thanos, but there was a very small chance she could salvage it for parts. 

_Would have been a waste of parts,_ she heard Thanos sneer. In rage, she punched the console and it spluttered to a flickering and dubious life.

"A little percussive maintenance?" She turned and saw he was watching her, his eyes glittering in the dark. "Could have tried turning it off and then back on again. Bag of rice, you get the idea."

"Your words are gibberish to me, Terran." She went over and found a bottle of precious water, putting it near Stark's hand. She could feel the heat of his body but did not think much of it; human physiology was not her forte.

"You wouldn't be the first. What... what is this?" He asked, looking around the dead ship. Despite his joking around, his question was devoid of curiosity. His voice and tone would have disturbed her if she were sensitive to such things; it held the echoes of his hopeless, helpless despair.

"An M-class space ship named the Benatar. I need to make repairs before we get out of here, there's not enough power."

(He gave her slow regard, silent as she started pulling apart the console. As he contemplated the odds of the linguistic coincidence of the ship's name, deciding it was too great a coincidence and must have been Quill's doing, he curled up on the floor, supporting his head on his arm. His wound was oozing blood again. He thought if he could summon the energy to move, he could use a few of the precious nanites to reseal it, but the energy was not forthcoming. That same elusive energy would have given him the strength to get up and help the nice (not _very nice_ ) cyborg lady get the ship running. 

_Come on Stark,_ he reprimanded himself. _Get up. Pepper. Rhodey. Happy. May._ But the thought of this last person sapped his flickering motivation and it was snuffed out entirely. He just... couldn't.)

A tinny, wobbling sound of music playing when the power was dying met his ears as the woman continued to work without acknowledging him further.

_Why don't you run away_  
_I'm gonna leave today_  
_But even I_  
_Don't know what I'm gonna do_  
_Don't know what I'm gonna do  
__What are you gonna do_

"Alice Cooper?" Tony asked faintly, incredulous. The random earth music, out here, so far from home, was so strange Tony wondered for a moment if he'd actually lost his mind. He hurt; he hurt.

"Quill maintained a 'music' collection," Nebula muttered, standing so straight Tony's back ached. He noticed that about her-- so rigid in her self control it was uncomfortable, it was painful; a small pain lost among the many greater ones. She snapped a switch that abruptly turned off the music and Tony closed his eyes. She pulled out several of the fried wires and circuits, worked steadily. Within an hour, she had the ship ready for launch; but she knew it was a patchwork job. They would have to find somewhere to make more permanent repairs, resupply if possible. They would be lucky to make it that far, and even more lucky to find a place with resources to help them. Titan was far from any habitable planets. That was one reason why it had died.

The Benatar lifted off, despite all odds.

Titan faded into the dark and uncaring cold of the universe. Nebula plotted a course for earth, already knowing their chances--

Well. Their chances were slim. She watched the stars fly by, not thinking of anything, automatically and mechanically doing the things it took to keep the spacecraft flying and on course.

"Tell me about... her."

Nebula looked up quickly, her black eyes glittering in the dim light, her every sense alert. If he knew of her weakness, he could use it as a tool against her, she had to be careful, she had to--

But he was weak. So weak he did not even have the strength to reach for the water she put near his hand an hour ago, though his thirst must be burning. It was not only bodily weakness he was contending with, she knew. It was the weakness that came of utter despair. She'd felt that too but she did not allow it to make her weak, she was not useless like this Terran.

But she doubted now he was trying to harm her. He was laying on the hard and unforgiving metal of the ship's floor, boneless, too weak now to even tense with the pain. Or too careless of it. Having been on the receiving end of the kind of punishment Thanos dealt, she doubted it was the latter.

"What?" She asked, unable to keep the sharpness from her voice. Unable to keep the sharpness... she was sharp. She wounded anyone and everyone except the one she most wanted to. She was a scythe, an extremely effective one, cutting down anyone and anything yet she could still hear Thanos' voice echoing in her mind weak, useless, pointless, waste of parts.

"The woman," he mumbled, his eyes closed, his lips dry. He tried to focus. "The one Quill was looking for. The one he... he punched Thanos. I can't remember..."

Stiff and angry, she stood stock still a moment, then reluctantly relaxed and went over to the dying man. She knelt beside him and carefully put a hand under his shoulders. He roused briefly but then closed his eyes, tired, tired, tired, going pale even at the movement of her lifting him, his skin burning hot against hers. It felt awkward, holding him, but she had no choice. With her other hand, she tipped the water into his mouth and answered him as he drank the precious liquid.

"Gamora." For once her voice was a soft thing, gentle.

"Right," he said, remembering. "'Why's Gamora."

"What?"

"Something the... Mr. Clean. The big guy, no hair. 'Why's Gamora.'"

"I wouldn't call her wise. She was foolish."

"No--"

"She was so damn foolish!" Nebula burst forth angrily. "Giving up the soul stone! I tried to tell her not to, but she didn't listen to me! Of course she didn't. She never has in her life. Damn her. This is her fault. All of this. She... Why did she do that? Why? Why?" She shook her head, wishing once again for tears that would never come. She felt so horribly, horribly broken. It wasn't until she felt the Terran tense in her arms that she realized how tight her grip had become in her anguish. She looked down at him, his eyes open now, large and brown and grieving, like her.

"I don't know. Who was she to you?"

"My... my sister."

"That explains it, then. She loved you. Cared about you."

"Yes. She did. No. If she did, then why did she give Thanos the stone? Nothing could have been worse than that."

He was silent, then carefully eased himself to sitting upright, cradling his injured side and she moved away from him. He was still pale and bloodstained and bruised and the dust of his fallen friend still on his face, tears streaked through in clear small paths. Nebula had never seen a more pitiful creature in her life. "That's the thing." He sighed, easing himself a bit. "I don't know. How'd it play out, what happened?"

"I tried to kill Thanos. I was so close this time. Had it not been for Proxima Midnight, I would have succeeded. He captured me, then he somehow, he somehow got to Gamora. When she wouldn't reveal the location of the soul stone, he tortured me until she relented. Then they were gone. I escaped but too late to save... her."

He blinked in slow pity, a hitch in his breath and she could not bear his pity she grimaced angrily at him. 

"She cared about you. More than anything. You guys must have been close."

"I've tried to kill her more times than I can count."

"Oh."

"But she forgave me."

"Ah."

"I'll never understand!" She said, rage pushing the words past her clenched teeth. "How could she?"

"I can't answer you. Strange... the. The time stone." He voice wobbled on the word. He shook his head, unable to stop the unbidden tears from forming again. "He said he saw the future, the one where we win. I can't understand. He had to have seen P--" but he couldn't bear to say the child's name and his face twisted in grief.

Nebula closed her eyes, unable to do anything but feel the pain of their loss. She stood up abruptly.

"Let me see your wound."

"W... what?" He gave her a confused glance, unbalanced by the swiftness of the subject change.

"So it's not just Quill. All Terrans are slow," she snapped. "I said. Let me see your wound."

He couldn't help but stare at her, her mood and tone so wildly inconsistent. Slowly and with great care, he pulled up his shirt and the tank top underneath, exposing the wound to her critical eye, then twisting as if to show her the exit wound but he found the motion too painful, hissing sharply. The small movement caused a gush of dark blood and Tony put his fingers to it, confused. The edges of the wound were angry, red, infected; no doubt it was very painful.

"It looks infected."

"It is." That explained the heat of his skin; it must be some kind of biological response to infection in humans.

"But... how? It's not that old."

"Titan is full of filth and pestilence. I don't suppose Thanos had the graces to use a sanitizer before stabbing you with your own weapon?"

He eyed her, his gaze a bit wrathful now, irritated with her sarcasm, doing his best to contain his reaction to the terrible pain. "I'm sorry, where exactly where _you_ when that happened? We were a bit on the short-handed side."

He froze, gazing up at her now with fear and anger. "You're one of his."

She glared back at him fiercely, anger and hatred twisting with her pain. "Shut up, human! You know nothing!"

"You... where were you, then?" He knew it was ridiculous; if she were one of Thanos' minions, surely she wouldn't have brought him along? Unless it was Thanos' idea to keep an eye on him and still keep the deal he'd made with Strange? "Where were you when we were fighting him?"

"I was waiting for an opening," she snapped. "I've been trying to kill Thanos longer than you've been _alive!_ I will have his head! I knew your efforts were futile. You were as children raging at the ocean, coming after him with your little sticks and stones. You never should have brought the child! Children shouldn't be forced to fight in wars!"

"Shut up!" he snapped, his eyes burning with rage. They were face to face, so angry, neither of them backing down. " _You_ are the one that doesn't know what the hell you're talking about! I tried to send, I _told_ him he-- He didn't listen. He... he snuck on board the Qship." Tears were streaking down his face, silent and unstoppable. Nebula felt her heart twist; she shouldn't have said that. She hadn't thought. She'd only been thinking about what Thanos had done to her as a child, it was heartless.

An exceedingly effective scythe. 

"Come on. I need to put you in this bed by the medical supplies and heal your wound," she said stiffly, standing up. 

"I... I can't."

She eyed him warily then picked him up as if he weighed no more than a child. The motion pained him, the back injury stretching and bleeding and showing every sign of infection. She laid him on the table where Thor had lain unconscious after his own encounter with Thanos; Mantis had told her about it when she explained where Rocket and Groot had gone. 

Stark coughed out a groan, curling around the injury in agony. "Pepper," he said.

"What?"

Her voice roused him; he'd spoken in delirium. "She's gone. She told me to come back, but I couldn't. Had to... I had to." His voice trailed off into a mumble.

Nebula pulled out a hypospray, contemplating that there may yet be a more dire need than this to use it. She could fix him without it. He twisted on the table, unable to rest due to the pain and fever. "Pepper," he called again. 

He apparently had a woman he cared for. Perhaps even as much as Quill had cared for Gamora. With Gamora and Quill dead, she wondered if the love was a waste. It seemed like a waste. It hadn't saved them. Gamora's... love... hadn't spared either of them their fate. But that little niggle of love that she felt for her sister, she couldn't let go of it, no matter how painful, how useless. She administered the hypospray that put him into a deep and dreamless sleep. As he went limp and ceased his incoherent mumbling, she thought maybe she would spare him as much as she could; he'd been through enough.


	3. Day THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear there should probably be an abuse trigger warning on this chapter darlings. Nebula's grief is dredging up some particularly painful memories.

Nebula was familiar, oh, very familiar, with the medical equipment. She picked up a particular instrument, remember when one like it had held her to life when she'd wished, desperately, for death... after he took her eyes.

The eyes had been bad. 

It wasn't that the implants weren't practical, and more effective. And if there were times when she missed _seeing_ in the old way, it was a loss that held little sting among the many other things she'd lost. It wasn't as if she would ever have the opportunity to see the setting sixth moon on a cold morning on Luphoes. She'd never seen it, that she knew; she was an infant when Thanos murdered her family and took her as a foundling. She'd heard it described, somewhere, she couldn't think of _where._

So really there was no practical reason why it should cause particular pain to recall the moment her vision had gone dark, her scream of fear and his answering slap of rebuke. Their removal in itself had not hurt particularly worse than any of the other amputations or grafts, either.

All the same. The eyes had been bad.

Realizing that she'd clutched the instrument so hard it was bending under the pressure of her grip, she relented, digging back through the other supplies. She found what she needed-- something to cleanse and knit the wound together. It would take several treatments, but thankfully the instrument was designed to be used multiple times without needing any maintenance. She lifted his shirt, surprised again at the softness, the weakness of his body. Yet he had fought very fiercely. Having seen his attack on Thanos, she doubted if even she would have survived the onslaught. But Thanos had. Of course he had.

The procedure only took ten minutes or so. Carefully she wiped away the blood, but there was nothing much she could do for the moment about the dirt, the sweat... the ash. The ashes of the child. The ashes of her friends. She slammed her metal arm against the table, not even regretting the dent. The Terran didn't move, forced into peaceful sleep due to the powerful drugs she'd given him. 

She took stock.

It didn't take long.

The ship itself would have to have attention. The fuel cells were damaged; she would have to work on them, buy them _time._ As for supplies, they appeared to have been recently depleted, some spilled on the ground as if taken in haste and never put away properly. She picked them up, counting them silently, doing the math from the medical scanner's information about human biology. The Benatar didn't have a water reclaimer, just some in a tank in reserve. There was only enough for a week or so even on very limited rations. She turned down the temperature in the ship; it couldn't be so cold it would cost him energy to keep warm, but cold enough to help slow metabolism. She tried to think. 

As most of her body was made of metal and electronic parts, it did not require the same amount of sustenance that a living, growing body would. She could live much longer on much less, very efficient. She didn't even require much oxygen, though it could mean trouble in the long run. Her vital functions were not based on aerobic metabolism but an electronic one, for the most part. There was very little of her Luphomoid biology left; sometimes, she thought, not enough to matter at all. She put a hand to her stomach-- already hungry. She hadn't eaten in a few days, not in the haste to help try and save Gamora and stop Thanos. Her single-minded wrath had not served her well, preparation-wise.

Titan was not in an easily accessible or oft traveled sector. That was one of the many reasons its society had collapsed, followed swiftly by its population meeting a catastrophic demise. There were few resources.

She walked over to the communications console, briefly pained by the thought that Mantis had manned the station less than a day ago and now she was gone, gone. She turned it on, searching for any nearby signals, but of course, there were none-- they were surrounded by nothingness, by darkness, cold, and death. She hesitated; calling for help could just as easily and likely call the violent, the vindictive looking for easy prey. Well, they would not find easy prey. What it lacked in food, it made up for in plenty of weapons. The mercenary Guardians were at least not so foolish as to go unprotected. She turned on the signal to call for help. With the fuel cells damaged, there was no hope to make any kind of jump, but she could at least head them in the right direction.

...

Tony shifted, sleep slipping away and the movement awakening a thousand pains throughout his body. His face crumpled against the onslaught and he gave himself a minute to conquer the terrible pain. He'd been in car accidents; he'd been hit by jets, he'd slammed to the earth and been shot out of the sky with missiles. And now he'd been crushed by the inexorable weight of a small moon hurled at him with terrible power. It was always the next day that hurt the worst. It must be the next day. There was no part of him that did not ache deeply and profoundly. He allowed himself a moment, beyond proud of how well the nanotech had held out.

Pulled from his daze by the black-eyed alien cyborg who was watching him dispassionately, he tried and failed to sit up. "Where are we?" he asked, no more pertinent questions coming to mind. His back, his shoulders hurt with an unpleasant, deep ache.

"What is your name, human?"

"It's Tony Stark," he told her, trying not to slur his words. He was so tired. He was so thirsty. _And I'm not afraid of you,_ came the echo in his mind from another time. And he wasn't afraid, at the moment. The worst had happened. The thing he dreaded and feared and tried with all his not inconsiderable resources to prevent had happened. What was left to fear?

"What is the ridiculous purpose of humans having so many names?" Nebula muttered to herself as she fiddled with some tool.

"One is my given name and one is my surname. My... my family name."

"Which one is the one you are called by?"

"Call me Tony. What do they call you?"

"Nebula."

"Nice to meet you, Nebula. Just so we're clear... how is it, exactly, that we're communicating? Some kind of universal translator?" Of all his pains, the one from being stabbed was beginning to burn and make itself known. He clasped a hand to the wound.

"I have one built in."

His mouth moved as if to respond then closed tightly; Nebula noticed with fascination that human skin turned colors; she'd noticed it in Quill sometimes, the way his cheeks or ears or neck would change pink, but she'd supposed it was due to the color of human blood. She had noticed Tony's skin seemed whiter in his face than before, but again, that could be attributable to blood loss. She could not account for this strange gray, green color--

Tony leaned over, grabbing an empty receptacle, and violently threw up the small amount of water he'd ingested earlier.

Nebula frowned. So that's what that meant.

A sheen of sweat had formed across his face as he panted, shaking. Nebula found herself again astonished at the weakness and frailty of the species. How he'd survived, she couldn't understand. The curious tech in his chest, she knew, was a large part of it, but the scanners had not been able to tell her much about it. He was unique. 

He was bleeding again, the violent movement from the throwing-up reopening part of the wound, the pain of it reasserting itself among his many other pains. She took a piece of cloth and pressed it to the bleeding wound, eliciting a groan of pain. 

"I will have to readminister the treatment," she informed him.

"No, just leave it it'll be fine."

"I gather you have some kind of intelligence in order to use the technology you did, Tony Stark, but you are even more stupid than I thought if you don't allow me to fix that. You will die of it."

"Well, I imagine so, but I was also thinking it hurts like hell."

Nebula paused at this. A part of her scoffed; she had endured far worse, and without complaint. But the sympathy that Gamora had, finally, extended to her over all that she had suffered, gave her a moment's hesitation at dismissing Tony's. "It will hurt. I am sorry," she said finally.

This seem to crack the limit of his stoicism and his face gave in to the pain he was fighting, but briefly. He looked up at her, his face determined. He seemed unable to speak, but nodded.

"I have already treated you while you were asleep from the drugs. There's not many left, but I could give you more," she suggested. 

He raised his eyebrows, thinking about it. "How long until we get to someplace civilized? Later today?"

Nebula shook her head. "I'm afraid not. I have to fix the fuel cells, and even then I'm afraid... we might not get far."

"But... far enough?" he asked slowly, beginning to realize their situation was far from ideal.

She shook her head; a very small movement. "Perhaps."

"Okay. Okay." It struck him that Strange had to have seen this happen. He had to have known if he saved his life, he'd end up here, if he really saw the future. There would have to be a way that they would survive. It filled him with a kind of desolate determination.

"Keep the... drugs. In reserve." He hated to think that things could still get worse, but there it was. "Let's get this over with."

"Why do your eyes do that?" Nebula asked. 

"Do... do what?"

"They are strange."

"I don't know. I don't know what you mean."

She stared at him intently. "They seem more reflective."

He looked confused. "It might... might be fever or pain. I don't know."

She moved back around as Tony tried to get more comfortable on the table, pulling back the cloth to look at the wound. "Humans are strange."

"What are your people called?"

"I am Luphmoid."

"Are your people--"

"When Thanos killed half my race, the rest scattered and have become near extinct," she cut him off abruptly and he let his head fall against the table with a soft thud.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I tried to stop him. I tried."

"It was before your time, human."

"I don't know, you look a bit youngish but could be a stellar skincare routine. How old are you?"

"I don't know. Be quiet."

Obligingly, Tony slung an arm across his eyes, frowning at the pain radiating down his arm from his shoulder at the movement. He didn't move when she removed the cloth, but could not help but flinch as she began the mending. He opened his eyes and saw her watching him for his reaction.

"It feels like flames. Burning."

"It will not hurt as much as the wound heals. It begins to feel... not unpleasant. But at first it will be like this."

He was panting again, trying to control his pain, until he took in a breath and did not let it out. He held his breath against the pain so long that Nebula glanced at him again, despite herself worried and sorry for him, but he breathed again, then again. It did not take so long this time, at least.

"There. Get up, if you can, or must I carry you?"

He didn't answer and she moved as if to pick him up, pulling him to sitting. "No," he breathed out, doubled over against the pain. "I just... need a minute." 

Irritably she went to the medical supplies and poured him a drink-- only a small tumbler full, and she handed it to him carefully "Drink it."

He again followed her orders, a shudder wracking his body. "What the hell was that?"

"It will aid your healing. It doesn't taste very good. I'm not certain what it's other effects may be on the human body, but Quill drank it after his injuries in battle so I have hopes it will do you no harm."

A strange, cold burning began in his stomach; it was painful, with a similar sensation to when a limb falls asleep though not as intense. After a few minutes, he felt something unexpected-- a bit of relief.

"Thank you," he told her. She had wandered off, again working on the ship's battered components. She turned back to him. 

"Are you still in pain?"

"Well, yeah, but not as bad." His mind had cleared too. 

"Where is the pain?"

"Here," he said, gesturing to his stab wound. "And... my shoulders hurt. My upper back."

"Remove your shirt," she instructed, and Tony, not shy, carefully pulled off his shirt and the tank top underneath, sighing. When he'd put it on to go jogging with Pepper, he'd never ever suspected he would be taking it off under such circumstances. The reminder of Pepper smote his heart. He wondered if she'd made it or had turned to dust like Peter, but without him there to hold her. Had she been alone? Had Happy been there, or Rhodey? Could they all three have been destroyed as well? He couldn't cope with such thoughts.

"By gods and titans. What happened to you?" Nebula exclaimed. 

"What?"

"These bruises. How did they happen?" She was looking at shoulders and back.

"I don't know? A lot happened."

"They're in a peculiar pattern, as if you were struck by a rod across both shoulder blades, angled toward your neck. And here, on your neck on both sides, small round bruises, deep."

Tony was perplexed. "I don't remember anything like you're describing. Is there a couple of mirrors? Let me look at it."

Of course Quill had two hand mirrors on board. Nebula helped Tony to angle them so he could see the strange wounds that had been troubling him. 

He stared at them a long few moments, his breath coming hard and fast. "Pain?" Nebula queried.

Tony could only shake his head, he couldn't speak for a few moments. "It--" he choked off and swallowed with difficulty. "It's from the kid. Didn't know his own strength. When I was holding him before--"

Nebula swiftly understood as she recalled the moments before the child had turned to dust. He'd been holding so tightly to Tony that he'd left deep, painful bruises across his back and shoulders. It gave Nebula a sick feeling, empathy for the child and Tony, but also knowing that it was a despair and fear that had been echoed trillions of times as life through the galaxy was suddenly and abruptly ended. It was no doubt one that Gamora experienced in her last moments. 

"I'm sorry," Nebula said simply. Tony blinked back tears as she helped to clean him up; he didn't have the range of motion to do much. Using a sonic washcloth, she carefully cleaned off as much of the filth she could to help keep infection at bay. She helped him put his tank top back on then lead him to the cramped but comfortable pull out bed where he collapsed, falling asleep again despite his pain and grief. 

She decided not to bother waking him when the Benatar lost power, coming to a drifting stop less than an hour later.

...

Nebula saw that she didn't have the right equipment to fix the fuel cells. The escape pod was gone. Their supplies would not last, and one of them was gravely injured in battle, not to mention fighting an infection. Not one to blink in the face of adversity, she still recognized that there was a likely chance the two of them would die here, after everything.

It crossed her mind that she could end the human's suffering. It would be doing him a favor. He wouldn't have to wake up and face all of this, a slow and painful death. But she could not bring herself to seriously contemplate the move. No. For Gamora's sake, for Quill's, for all of those who had died, she would hold his life paramount and she would not give up. She started pulling apart the ship, cannibalizing it to keep the life support systems functional as long as possible. She made a more thorough inventory of the parts and tools available, finding them scattered at all ends of the ship. She gathered clothing and blankets and other items that might become useful. Handling the scant belongings of the dispersed and killed Guardians wounded her but she did not stop to feel the pain of it. She moved forward with every practical arrangement she could make.

A low and staticky sound finally caught her attention; she became aware that she'd been hearing the sound for several minutes without recognizing it as anything but normal ship sounds. "--tis? Do you come--? Mant-- ill? Anyone, do you read?" 

Nebula flew across the space to the communications array. "Copy! Copy, who's there?" She asked frantically. "Come in, this is Nebula."

"Neb-- I can't read you." The voice faded in an out in hazes of static. "--Just your--shield modu--teen degrees." Nebula complied with the cryptic instructions, modulating their shield array with the small knob until the static cleared and a voice came through. 

"Can you read?"

"Kraglin? Kraglin, is that you?"

"Nebula! Where are you?"

She checked the most recent readings from the control panel. "I'm near Titan, heading toward the Tracer Quadrant but I'm out of power."

"Okay, I'm coming to you. Send me your most recent coordinates."

...

Kraglin's familiar, scruffy face filled her with a happiness she never would have anticipated. After so much death and loss, the sight of someone who knew her, was friendly to her, and who also knew the Guardians and had fought beside her in battle brought overwhelming emotions she had not anticipated. Although she was happy, there were also very unpleasant feelings accompanying it, mixed with it in unexpected ways. She felt anger, grief, and pain. She scoffed and touched the new silver Yaka Arrow controller he wore.

"What happened?" Kraglin asked without preamble. "Half the universe is in chaos. Where're the Guardians? Did you steal this?"

"No. I joined some of the Guardians on Titan to fight Thanos. He was after more Infinity Stones."

"I heard about Xandar." Nebula nodded. Kraglin's homeworld had been, perhaps, Thanos' last victim before he accomplished his goal of uniting the Infinity Stones. Kraglin could guess what had happened. "Nebula," he said with grief. 

"Gamora, Quill, Drax, and Mantis perished in battle. Rocket and Groot were not with them, but I fear with the Decimation that has taken place, they have fallen also."

"Before all that, there was some kind of dust-up on Asgard. Ragnarok, if you can believe it! Whole thing's gone now. There was a ship of survivors, came across them, they said that Thanos had attacked them. I'm escorting three Einherjar to what's left of Xandar. There used to be more but they turned to dust!" Nebula nodded once. Kraglin wiped his brow.

"Now what will you do? Still go after Thanos?"

"I was heading for Earth, where Quill was born. The fuel cells are damaged."

"Come with us instead!"

Nebula thought for a moment. "There's another passenger. I have to get him home to his people. We can't go to Xandar."

"Oh?" Nebula pulled back the curtain that Tony was sleeping behind. Kraglin looked at the sleeping figure doubtfully. "What's he to you? He don't look long for life, to be honest. How'd he get so injured?"

"Thanos." Kraglin shaped his mouth in a silent whistle.

"Wouldn't have thought him good for it."

"Thanos nearly killed him. But his life was spared in exchange for one of the Infinity Stones. I want to get him home."

Kraglin rubbed his hand over his face. "Show me the fuel cells." 

The two of them spent several moments going over the damage and the supplies. "I have something that might fix this temporarily. Gonna take some elbow grease, but I can't stay."

"Is there someone you can send to help us? Ravagers?"

"No, I wouldn't. They're in chaos right now, some's making their own moves for power, some's gone rogue, some's trying to get things in some kind of order again but can't say who to trust. I'd be careful of using your communications system again, what with the looting that's starting. They'll kill you first then see what you have to offer."

Nebula digested this. "Right."

"I'll give you a few more supplies, I don't have much for human consumption. I'm sorry Nebula."

She bit back a sarcastic and scathing remark and said instead, "Thank you for your help," she said simply. 

He left her after transferring a few precious resources; a bit more food, and supplies to fix the fuel cells. He did not attempt to embrace her, but put a hand on her shoulder, tears in his eyes. "Good luck Nebula. Maybe we'll see each other again."

"Good-bye Kraglin," she responded dispassionately, but when his ship was out of sight and with Tony still sleeping, she sat down in Quill's chair, looking out at the stars, and though she could shed no tears, she wept bitterly.

**Author's Note:**

> I really appreciate comments :)


End file.
